


through the cracks

by meggiewrites



Category: Men's Football RPF
Genre: As in they're in their mid 30s cause that's what retirement is for footballers, Established Relationship, Existential Crisis, Future Fic, Homesickness, M/M, Married Characters, Mats is Angsting, Retirement, Supportive Husband Bene, Very Minor Neuller
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-09
Updated: 2018-10-09
Packaged: 2019-07-25 02:07:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,761
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16187867
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meggiewrites/pseuds/meggiewrites
Summary: Mats Hummels doesn't take to life as a retired professional footballer as well as he expected to.Sure, he's only 36 years old and still got a long future ahead of him, but at this point, it doesn't look very bright. That his husband Benedikt seems to flourish and blossom right next to his miserable ass doesn't exactly help either – especially when he doesn't want to burden him with his problems.





	through the cracks

**Author's Note:**

  * For [sevdepayne](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sevdepayne/gifts).



> Well, my very secret recipient who certainly doesn't know me at all ..... I really hope you like this little mess – I once described it as ten ideas hiding under a coat, pretending to be a fic, and I still think that's fully accurate, but I tried to put in as many little details that I hope you love? (And some I love but shhh) You also asked for a past or present coming out and uhhh, I only realized after finishing that I didn't include that, so I hope you won't hold that against me – but HEY, they are married, at least!
> 
> Thanks to the lovely people (J, M1, M2 and my lovely beta K) who helped me with this, you're the real MVPs ♡ Enjoy reading!

Mats is bored.

Which, according to his sort-of friend and perpetual pain in the ass (not literally, mind you) Thomas Müller, is never a good sign. Thomas has years-long experience in doing stupid shit when he’s bored, so Mats guesses he is some sort of an expert. Only that Thomas isn’t the one who has to suffer at the hand of Mats’ boredom, it’s his husband Benedikt.

Bene, who is getting quite fed up with the fact that Mats has been moaning around for almost a two weeks – because that’s exactly how long he’s been stuck in this horrible slump. Bene, who is now peering over the edge of his imaginary classes, casting Mats a Look.

“You’re in a midlife crisis.”

Mats, slumped in his kitchen table chair as if it was a weirdly shaped but terribly expensive piece of designer furniture, humphs.

“I’m not in a midlife crisis. I’m not even forty!” He stirs his coffee so violently that it spills over the edge of his cup and onto the wooden table. Normally he would care about the stain that would leave, but somehow things don’t really feel normal anymore.

Bene sighs and focuses on his newspaper again, which still doesn’t stop him from voicing his opinion again. “Only yesterday you complained about being, and I quote, ‘too old for this shit’. Shit in this case meaning picking up your dirty laundry from the floor because, and I quote again, your bad back. When _you_ dropped it there only hours before even when I told you not to. You’re right, you’re not in your midlife crisis. You’re actually a sixty year-old man with the brain of a twelve year old.”

He peeks at Mats again, a sly smile teasing at his lips. “Actually, I’m glad you haven’t hit your midlife crisis, or else I’d need to worry about you replacing me with some blonde bimbo.”

Mats, grinning, knows exactly how to one-up that. “You’re the only bimbo I need,” he purrs, causing Bene to reach over the table and hit him over the head with his newspaper. How he managed to roll it up so quickly, Mats has no idea. (Sometimes, his husband is a ninja. Especially whenever Mats does something that Bene disapproves of. Like to snack on chocolate candies in between meals.)

Sadly, his moment of mirth is only short-lived. He really hates this feeling, the feeling of being dragged down by every little thing, the feeling that he isn’t doing anything with his life and going nowhere anymore.

And it’s not even like that’s true. He still has his TV commentary job, sometimes writes articles for a football magazine or the other, but compared to Bene, who is studying to become a physio, he mostly sulks at home. And it really is sulking by now. Video games have become boring to him, and he also feels like that by now he isn’t supposed to play them anymore. He’s read all his book at least three times, and all the new ones he tries don’t have the same flavour to them anymore, they all feel the same.

So he cooks a lot, which leads to a lot of test tasting, which leads to a slight tummy – that he hates – being added to his frame. His hair is going gray at his temples and then he remembers times where he always had his good looks going for him at least, even when nothing else seemed to work; but now, those are failing him as well.

It doesn’t help that Thomas, whenever he calls, still looks exactly like he did ten years ago, with an added glow to his features that apparently comes from being a loving husband and happy dad of a preschooler.

Well, it certainly never came to Mats.

And it’s not like Bene isn’t enough for him, of course he is. He always has been. But sometimes he does regret moving to the middle of nowhere (Namely Frankfurt. Which Mats knows isn’t exactly a tiny village, but it’s all the same if you don’t know anyone there) because they couldn’t agree whether to live in Düsseldorf or Munich and then settled in the middle. He misses his brother, misses his friends from school, his old teammates from both Bayern and Dortmund. Even misses Thomas, that ass.

He doesn’t tell Bene any of this.

Bene is happy, he made tons of friends at school and always comes home with a smile on his face, and Mats doesn’t want to pull him down. Seeing Bene like this makes him happy, it really does, and it’s so good to be with him again, full-time, after years of long-distance relationship and nights of long calls and not being able to fall asleep because Benedikt wasn’t right there in his arms.

He remembers the promise he made at their wedding, and he treasures it, treasures Bene, loves him more with every year. But even with his husband as his personal ray of sun, Mats feels like he’s drained. He doesn’t want to acknowledge it though, so he just calls the feeling by what it most feels like. Boredom.

“When are the children coming over again?”

Bene sighs. “For the twentieth time, they aren’t our kids.”

That’s why you always mother them as if they’re going to their first day of primary school whenever they come over, Mats thinks, but refrains from commenting and just raises his eyebrows at his husband.

Bene sighs again, louder and slightly more exasperated. “Tomorrow at noon. Please try to remember it this time.” He checks his watch, and curses when he notices how late it already is. With a fond smile, Mats observes him rush upstairs and almost falling them down again as he struggles into his jeans, haphazardly throwing on a coat and a scarf.

Bene’s smile is tender when he stops mid-motion in front of Mats, scrutinizing him quietly before leaning down to steal a kiss. His lips are still as soft as the first time they met Mats’, more than fifteen years ago. His eyes still twinkle as brightly, too.

“Have a nice day at work,” Mats whispers after pressing a last, lingering kiss on his cheek.

Something in his stomach twists tighter when Bene closes the door behind himself. He sighs, and then gets up with a groan. His back hurts again, and he knows he should let someone look at it. Someone that isn’t Bene, mind you, cause as much as he loves having his husband’s hands on him, it still always leads to something more than a check-up. Also, he doesn’t want him to worry.

Mats cleans the bathroom, which is always a sign of him being in a bad mood, and then he video-calls Thomas.

They technically work together, but there are so many employees, pundits, experts and commentators at Sky that it’s not often that they actually see one another. Thomas’ hair has grown longer, is doing that weird thing where his half-curls stick out at all angles. They’re a bit grayer than Mats’ already, which is at least something, but other than that, he still looks exactly like he did the first time they met when they were in the Bayern youth.

Well, apart from the six-year old on his lap, of course.

“Hi Uncle Mats!” Fabian shrieks before either of the adults manage to even get a word out, in that very loud, high-pitched manner that only small children have.

It makes Mats crack a smile, how genuinely excited Thomas’ son is to see him. He’s a very cute kiddo, even knowing who his parents are. “Heya Fabi, how are you big man?”

Fabi, true to his parentage, immediately launches into excited chatter in which he starts to recount his entire day, before he then gets distracted by something off-screen, slipping off Thomas’ lap and out of Mats’ view.

His former teammate offers him an apologizing grin. “Sorry. He just wanted to say hi.”

Mats shrugs him off. He likes the little guy, and even if he’s technically only Bene’s godson, it sometimes feels like he’s his own, too.

Thomas shoots him an inquisitive look. “Are you okay?”

“Why do you ask?” Mats fiddles with his sweater, doesn’t meet his eyes.

“‘Cause you didn’t sound okay the other day, and you certainly don’t look okay now.”

Busted. It’s enough that Mats can’t stifle a sigh anymore. This one is ragged, tired, almost a bit desperate.

“I feel like I’m wasting away. I’m not depressed, don’t worry, I don’t feel like it at all, but I feel like I’m going nowhere, doing nothing productive. Do you know what I mean?”

Thomas chuckles. “Mate, I’m a full-time dad with a part-time job who’s getting a coaching license by the side. I can promise you I’m plenty busy.” Then he sobers up. “But, yeah, I get you. That feeling of stagnation, it’s terrible. Have you tried trying new stuff? Does Bene know?”

“You can’t tell Bene!”, Mats snaps.

Thomas raises his hands in surrender, “I didn’t plan to tell him, Jesus, calm down. But don’t you think you should talk to him?”

Mats immediately feels bad for bitching at his friend. “Sorry, Mull” he mutters, “but it’s driving me nuts. I’ve tried cooking, I’ve tried baking, I played almost every video game on Steam and hated every single one; same with books. The job is boring – no offence, I know you love it, but I really don’t think it’s challenging enough – and I really miss training with a team.” He falters. “Bene says I’m in a midlife crisis.”

The confession causes Thomas to raise his eyebrows. “He might not be too far off, you know?”

“I know.” Mats groans, tiredly rubbing his eyes, “but I really don’t know what to do to fight against it.”

Thomas shrugs. “Go out more? I know you’ve almost given up working out – don’t deny it, I know your lazy ass. Get a dog again, go for morning runs! Get back in shape, experience the world, I don’t know!” His voice grows softer, and it’s really disgusting how supportive he is even as he cracks a smile. “You’ll find something. You’re Mats Hummels, dammit, after myself probably the second most crazy guy I know.”

Mats hums, but his mind is already drifting off. He only snaps out of his thoughts again when Thomas lets out a string of curses.

The former forward shoots him an apologizing smile. “Sorry, Fabi just almost ate one of his crayons. Krümel no!!” he yells in his son’s direction.

Mats smirks. “And you talk like that in front of him?”

Thomas rolls his eyes. “Oh shut up, you sound like my husband. Well then, I guess I’ll talk to you later. You’re coming to the Hertha game, aren’t you?”

He grins when Mats confirms that he will, and waves him goodbye with one of his trademark smirks.

“Say hi to Benedikt for me.”

Mats nods. “Will do. And give your husband my best regards, too.”

“His husband says thank you!” someone yells off camera, and Mats startles so much that he almost falls off his chair.

Thomas cackles, and affectionately slaps the figure walking past him on the shoulder.

“Jesus fucking Christ Manu, can you stop that?!” Mats curses, and it’s not even that surprising when his former captain yells “language!” from the kitchen he’s disappearing into as Thomas quits the call with a fond shake of his head.

The house feels quiet now they’ve gone, and for the umpteenth time Mats wonders if he’s truly happy here. If he were back in Munich, he would have gone to bother his brother, have lunch with his mother or pop in at Säbener to see how the team is doing without him.

Here, he can’t do any of that.

It’s almost a relief when his agent to call him if he’d be up for a marketing deal, and the negotiations take up the most of the afternoon.

He’s in a better mood when Bene comes home, so much that his husband shoots him a curious glance when he greets him with a few kisses peppered all over his face.

“Hey, love,” Mats grins, feeling rejuvenated again, now that he has a hold of Bene’s hand once more. He knows well enough that it won’t last, but he takes what he can get these days.

Bene’s smile is blinding, and temporarily makes Mats forget all his sorrows. It’s always been like that, ever since he was nineteen and first stumbled over his feet when he spotted the Schalke defender with freckles all over his cheeks and mirth in his eyes. These days, Bene doesn’t have much hair left anymore, and his beard makes him look more rugged than pretty, but his aura is still youthful and exuberant, just so much like everything that makes him the man Mats fell in love with.

“What are you smiling about?” the perfect human he has the luck to call his husband asks, and Mats smiles to himself, a quiet, private thing.

“Just how beautiful you are, darling, only that.”

Bene throws his head back in a full body laugh, and Mats feels his eyes crinkle, knowing that he’s not laughing at the statement but only at Mats’ cheesiness.

They kiss, and it’s still a taste that he can never get enough of. They find their way to the bedroom, forget about dinner and suddenly it feels like they’re 21 again, bold and loud and so, so in love.

Then Mats wakes up the next morning, and he feels each and every one of his 36 years weighing him down. His back aches again, and Bene’s arm lays heavy on his too-soft stomach. He squints at the ceilings, and wonders when truly happy moments started feeling like a lucky happenstance.

“Mats,” Bene mumbles, face still buried in his pillow. “Everything alright?” His naked shoulder sticks out of the blankets. It’s littered with tiny constellations just like the rest of him.

Mats leans over, tracing his fingers over his cheek in strange wonder. The freckles always seem to shift, unknown to his curious eyes, and he loves it, loves that no matter how many times he wakes up next to him, it feels new every time.

“Yeah,” he whispers, leaning down to place a kiss on Bene’s forehead, “It’s all good. Go back to sleep, honey.”

He smiles when Bene yawns and buries himself deeper in the feathery cloud, falling right back into a deep slumber. But then, the dread starts to wrap around him again. He rubs a hand over his face, but it doesn’t help.

He shuffles downstairs, almost falling over his own feet on the way. Usually this would be the moment where he’d power up his tablet as soon as he reaches the living room, reading the news, scrolling through twitter and maybe even informing himself on the next game he’d have to work at.

Now, he hesitates. His running shoes stand unused in the hallway. He hasn’t gone running in months. Sometimes, he goes cycling at the gym, and usually, sometimes means once a week, if that. For a few seconds, he just stares at the white sneakers before he turns around, running back upstairs only to come back down a few minutes later, dressed in sweatpants, a t-shirt and a hoodie and with a newfound sense of determination.

The air outside is crisp and his breath freezes in front of him the second he steps out of the door, but already, Mats feels the blood pumping through his veins and a grin spreading over his lips. He almost forgot what this felt like, trading this feeling for staying in bed just a bit longer, for snuggling up on the couch with a book he wouldn’t enjoy anyway.

Oh how good it feels.

He runs and runs, for half an hour and then forty minutes more, stopping at the neighbourhood bakery on his way back only to realize that he didn’t only leave his wallet but also his keys at home. The look he shoots the sales assistant must look so apologizing that she takes pity him and offers him some bread rolls and a croissant with a wink and in exchange for an autograph.

He’s drenched in sweat when he finally stops in front of their door again, and he starts to freeze the second he stops moving. It takes Bene almost a minute to get to the door, but by the drowsy look on his face when he finally opens it’s clear that he was sleeping right until now.

“Mats?” He tilts his head. “What are you doing?”

“I went for a run. Are you going you let me in?”

Bene raises an eyebrow, but he let’s him pass either way. He doesn’t comment on the fact that he once more forgot his keys (it happens more often than Mats would ever admit) and hums appreciatively when he spots the paper bags with the bread.

“And you brought breakfast too. I’m impressed.”

Mats pokes out his tongue at him and doesn’t care at all about how it makes him look like a spoiled preteen.

They eat in silence. It’s a comfortable one and somehow, it reminds Mats of the first time they shared an apartment, back when he played for Dortmund and Bene was the Schalke captain, these first few mornings they spent together. It feels like a lifetime ago, and sometimes he marvels at how far they’ve come. There were certainly enough obstacles, but they’ve made it. They’re still here, still together; married, even, and legally this time.

It should be enough to make him feel like the happiest man on the planet, but Mats has been able to clear his head on his run, and he realized that even if Bene is still his very own, personal star, he can’t live on love alone. Not when he’s miserable when it comes to everything else.

He clears his throat, but he’s disrupted when Bene stops in mid-motion with his mouth open and his croissant half-eaten right in front of it, a panicked look in his eyes.

“Why didn’t you tell me that it’s already 11am!” he exclaims, dropping the pastry on his plate and abandoning the table without giving it another glance. Mats tilts his head, then yelps when Bene throws a fresh towel at him.

“Get showered, the boys will be here in an hour. And we haven’t even started with the roast yet!”

Usually, they take turns with cooking. The only two exceptions are when they make a date out of it, in which case they like to take their time with it, or when they have guests. Now, with Leon and Max set to arrive so soon, Bene is panicking. He has never been a perfectionist, but compared to Mats, who’s messy on a good day, it’s no miracle that he’s a bit stressed by this.

Stressed enough that doesn’t even help when Mats yells “They’ve known us for ages! And also, I can assure you they’ll be late anyway! You know Leon, he always needs to get a coffee from a special hipster place for on the road!” Instead, Bene just ushers him to the shower.

The boys are on their way to the DFB team meet-up in Hamburg and decided to stop by rather spontaneously, Mats recalls as he gets tasked with peeling the potatoes a few minutes later, his hair still damp and even more curly than usual. Thomas is covering the game against Sweden, and he remembers how excited his friend was about the fact that he’d only have to take the bus to the stadium instead of commuting to the airport and a whole different part of the country.

(“And to see the boys again, of course! I wonder how they’re coping without us, really,” he’d smirked.

It hasn’t been long for any of them, Mats and Bene, Thomas and Manu and all the others, and they’re all still in the process of adjusting to the change, to not playing anymore. Some are coping better than others. Mats hates that he seems to belong to the latter category.)

Leon’s nose is as red as his cheeks when Bene ushers them inside, after they rung the doorbell ten minutes past noon, even with the thick woollen scarf he’s bundled up in. Max, next to him, doesn’t turn a hair, but even he cracks a smile when he has to to stand on his tiptoes to hug Bene.

“Hey Capitano,” he says, and Mats can spot his husband beaming as he rushes to embrace Leon as well.

He might deny it all he wants, but Bene is still attached to these kids, feels responsible for them to a degree, even if they’re both 29 by now, two of the main pillars of the German team next to their captain. Their captain, little Joshua Kimmich. Mats can only incredulously shake his head at how fast time flies, and he doesn’t even care when Leon casts him a bemused look for it.

It’s funny watching Bene mother the two of them as they all pool into the kitchen. Of course, they haven’t managed to finish lunch in time, but it’s not like it will matter if they’ll arrive at the team hotel a few hours later. For once, Bene talks more than Mats, moving his hands vividly as well, and it’s really charming to watch him.

Mats gets distracted when Max lifts his hand to push his fringe out of his face, and almost yelps when he spots the small diamond ring on the shorter blond’s ring finger. Bene and Max shoot him a strange looks, but Leon follows his eyes and smiles knowingly before lifting a finger to his lips.

Mats huffs. As if he’d have spoiled them the fun of telling Bene themselves. Instead, he pulls Leon to the side after they’ve finished eating half an hour later, when they’re clearing the table, but the curly-haired midfielder stops him before he can even start.

“I only proposed last week, it’s all very new, even our parents don’t know yet.”

Mats gasps jokingly. “I’m so honoured!” When Leon slaps him over the head for it he withdraws, raising his hands in surrender. “I’m really happy for you guys. Truly. It’s been a long time coming.”

Leon shrugs, pushing his hands in the pockets of his jeans, fixing his eyes on the carpet under his feet. He clears his throat. “Thanks.” He smiles a half-smile, and somehow, in that moment, that seems so much more genuine than a full-blown, paparazzi-ready one.

Then he tilts his head, scrutinizing Mats with an asserting glance. “How about you? How is retired life treating you?”

Mats chuckles emptily. “What can I say, it’s great.” He’s aware of how laconic he sounds, so he’s not surprised when Leon shoots him a Look. “I mean – honestly? I’ve been a mess. Work is alright if a bit boring, but I’m happy I’m still working in football. But gosh, I miss Munich.”

It’s the first time he’s put it in words, the first time it’s so clear to him what one of his biggest issues is. He wasn’t born in Munich, only moved there when he was six, but it’s his home, more than anywhere else, and god, he misses the city so desperately.

Leon raises a single, perfectly maintained eyebrow. “Why the hell did you move to Frankfurt then? Doesn’t seem that logical to me.”

Mats shrugs. “Bene likes it here.”

“You can’t tell me you moved to Frankfurt ‘cause Bene wanted to. He never even spent more than a few hours here before.”

There, and now Leon hit the nail right on the head.

“He didn’t. It was a compromise. His home is in Düsseldorf. Mine is in Munich. I didn’t want to uproot him like that.”

“And you didn’t uproot him by moving here, to a city neither of you have much of a connection to?”

Mats groans, but Leon doesn’t let him explain.

“Let me guess, this compromise was your idea?” He smiles over his lips when Mats nods, miserably. “Mats, did you ever _tell_ him that this is what you wanted?”

No answer is apparently answer enough for his grin to turn triumphant.

“Did he ever tell me what?”

Mats almost has a heart attack when Bene speaks up behind his back, Max standing next to him, clearly puzzled. He feels the blood rush to his face, and he just barely manages to squeak out a meagre “nothing!”.

Very convincing, truly. Bene is frowning as well by now, clearly unsettled, making Mats’ stomach churn, so he decides a distraction is direly needed.

“Did you notice that Max and Leon got engaged?!”

The look Leon sends him is icey enough to kill, and only just barely outshined by Bene’s excited outcry.

Naturally, the rest of the boys’ visit is spent with Leon yelling at Mats, Mats trying to talk his way out of it and Bene gushing at Max’s ring as well as an extensive recounting of their own wedding.

(“We were all there, Bene,” Max said, but smirked nevertheless. As for Mats, it’s not like he could ever grow tired of reliving those memories.)

Mats breathes out as soon as he closes the door behind them. “And this is why we don’t have kids.”

Bene grins. “You know as well as I do that we basically adopted these two years ago.”

“Aha! You finally stopped denying it!”

Bene rolls his eyes, but then he quickly becomes serious again. “Mats. What did Leon mean?”

Usually, Mats would try to weasel his way out of it. He’s got a way with words, thinks of himself as quite eloquent, but this is Bene. Bene, who is so incredibly disarming, who undoes him with one single smile, who knows him inside and out, back to front, who is familiar with every one of his quips and each of his charming smiles.

So, he only manages a sigh before he takes his husband’s hand, tugging him over to the living room where he gently pulls him down on the couch, facing him.

“Do you want me to be honest?”

The look Bene sends him so clearly conveys ‘Mats Julian Hummels-Höwedes are you being serious right now?’ as if he spelled it out letter by letter.

“I hate it here.”

Okay, maybe that was a bit too much honesty.

But surprisingly, Bene doesn’t gasp, doesn’t look shocked or upset. Instead he just frowns a bit more and gently squeezes Mats’ hand.

Mats’ voice is wavering as he continues, and he wonders if he ever, in his 36 years, sounded this insecure. “I miss my family. I miss Mum and Jonas and that terribly witty new girlfriend of his. I miss Munich and Bavaria, I miss my friends and I just. I know you took to the post-retirement life like a fish in the water, but as much as I hate to admit it, it isn’t that easy for me. And it really doesn’t help that I had to leave everything else I know behind, as well.”

He’s breathing heavily, but he hasn’t broken eye contact. Bene is still scrutinizing him, but then suddenly, his expression grows softer, gentle, and just as suddenly, he engulfs Mats in a big hug, pressing him close.

“Jesus, Mats. Never scare me like that again. When I overheard you guys talking I thought you wanted to break up or something.”

Mats pulls away, looking at him incredulously. “Are you crazy? Why on Earth would I ever break up with you?”

Bene smiles. “Well don’t ask me, but you have to admit, it did sound like it.”

Maybe it did a little, but still, Mats manages to be taken aback by Bene’s next words. “Leon’s right though. You never did tell me.”

He coughs. “I didn’t want to force you.”

Bene only gives him another look. Well, alright then.

“Benedikt Höwedes-Hummels. Will you move to Munich with me and to make this old sap here even happier?”

His stomach jumps excitedly when Bene’s smile grows wider. “I wouldn’t be opposed. As soon as the old sap stops talking about himself in third person.”

He just quickly enough ducks away to miss Mats’ retaliating slap.

His laugh sounds like bells in Mats’ ears as he leans forward, capturing his hands in between his own, pulling him in for a a kiss. It’s their 3297th one. Mats hopes he never stops counting.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Very cheesy ending, sorry. Title from Jason Mraz' _I'm Yours_
> 
> I write FICTION about real people. None of this is intended to harm them or their reputation in any way | Please leave kudos and maybe a comment if you liked it!


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